


Hold On

by walkydeads



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Convenient Bodily Contact, Cuddling out of necessity, Less sexy than you would expect, M/M, Tight Spaces, physical comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkydeads/pseuds/walkydeads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the tumblr ask meme prompt, 'pinning each other against the wall'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

Admittedly, Glenn knew the streets of Atlanta best. Beyond that was a nightmare and he was walking in just as blind as anyone else. They ended up, briefly, in a town on the coast, riding the border of South Carolina and Georgia, which was less a mass of land and more a series of islands. It was actually pretty safe for a place overrun with the undead. Except for the fact that Glenn doesn’t know a goddamn thing about it.

Daryl does, though. At least he claims to. Says he and Merle would go up the coast from time to time, hitting up all the great beach cities on the way to Atlantic City. Merle would go on a three-day bender and Daryl would spend damn near all their money at blackjack and they’d hate each other by the end of it, he’d said. But he still talks about it like it was fun.

This place was a military town, Glenn notes. The signs for the entrances to the Navy and Air Force bases showing that clearly. Seems in this town, they decided to lock their doors and save themselves rather than pour out into the streets to save the people like everywhere else. The decision is shameful, but it keeps most of the walkers contained behind fences and over drawbridges, at least.

Glenn doesn’t like being out of his element. Especially doesn’t like having to trust someone like Daryl, who he figures is just like his brother. It doesn’t matter that Daryl proves himself over and over - filling in for Rick when he’s having a mental breakdown, keeping Shane in check, comforting Carol and Lori and the kids and even finding Glenn a new baseball cap when he loses his - because there’s just something off about him. He looks at Glenn a lot, like maybe he’s worried Glenn sees through him, and that’s all the reason he needs to be suspicious.

When they somehow get thrown together to go on a run, Glenn both relishes the opportunity and dreads it. It’s good to keep an eye on him, but not so great to be alone with him. The whole quiet and brooding thing is equal parts suspicious and intimidating and Glenn’s not really one for direct conflict.

He spends most of his time silently following Daryl’s lead, in the beginning. Daryl gestured silently which direction to go in and they walked slowly, softly. Before they’d left, he had mention a gas station ‘up the road a piece’ and luckily, most of that road was a bridge over an inlet, so they were relatively safe. Still, they took their time. 

Daryl moved with practice and skill, Glenn noticed. It was strange, considering how awkward and stilted he was when it came to people. Surviving required little to no tact, which was good because he was severely lacking in that department. 

The gas station was surprisingly barren of cars, the caution tape around the pumps very telling as to why. The two walkers in front of it were easily dispatched of, as was the once-girl behind the counter.

Though the aisles were well stocked with food, the cooler gave off a putrid stench and they silently agreed to make the trip as quick and painless as possible. Glenn filled his backpack in seconds, grabbing some secondary things like dish soap, motor oil and toilet paper as well as the essential food. Daryl muttered something - almost to himself - about the water bottles still being good before filling his pack mostly with them.

Glenn was so consumed in the rush to get all this good stuff into his backpack that he didn’t hear the first few clatters. When Daryl shushed him, however, he immediately stopped what he was doing and looked towards the door. There were at least a dozen walkers out there. Luckily, they hadn’t spotted Glenn or Daryl yet and seemed to just be passing through, but Glenn knew things like that tended to simply be a matter of time.

He ducked behind the nearest aisle and traversed it silently, finding Daryl waiting for him at the end of it. He gestured towards a door that led, apparently, to the office in back of the store, and they headed towards it as quickly and quietly as possible. Miracles of miracles, it was unlocked.

Neither of them were counting on the rear entrance being flung wide open.

Walkers were passing it by, too, and there was no telling how long it would be before they were seen. Glenn saw another door, and Daryl was hauling him inside before he could figure out a way to point it out.

The way Daryl practically lifted and carried him in made his heart flutter, although he tried not to pay any heed to it.

However, trying to disregard it proved to be a moot point, as his back met brick and his front was met with Daryl’s as soon as the door was shut behind him. Daryl’s hands were on his upper arms, pressing down hard and severely limiting his movement. And strangely, Glenn didn’t feel conflicted.  
He felt rather safe, all things considered.

"Stay calm," Daryl whispered lowly. It was only just possible to make out his features in the light peeking from under the door. He was closer than he’d ever been to Glenn and it took the latter a second to catch his breath.

He thought he’d be scared, but he wasn’t. Instead, his fingertips itched with something. The urge to press closer. To be consumed. God, he thought wryly, he must have really missed human contact. There’s no way he’d even consider this under normal circumstances, but here he was, staring at the outline of Daryl’s jaw and not particularly wanting to look at anything else.

"We’ll wait this herd out, hopefully. Even if there’re a few stragglers we’ll be able to take ‘em out."

Glenn nodded blindly.

His fingers twitched almost involuntarily at the particularly close grunt of a walker. A scratch against the door elicited a gasp from him, and before he really knew what he was doing, he had Daryl by the waist, pulling him away from the noise, barely making it half a step and causing one of his thighs to slide between Glenn’s.

Breathing had become difficult. Glenn wasn’t quite sure why. He wanted to chalk it up to fear, but the truth of the matter was he’d done this a million times and never felt like this before.

"It’s alright," Daryl said, sounding pained at having to comfort someone. Glenn would’ve laughed if he could figure out how to pull air back into his lungs.

Daryl rubbed his arms - a small, comforting gesture - and Glenn shivered. He pressed himself closer. “I’m sorry, shit… I’m… s-sorry,” he panted, “I can’t breathe.”

"Glenn, it’s okay," Daryl repeated sternly, his hands firmly gripping his shoulders, "Shhh, it’s alright, come on now. Look here. If you can talk, you can breathe, just—-"

"Hold me down," Glenn blurted, suddenly, "Just… please."

Somehow, Daryl hardly hesitated once asked. His arms wrapped around his shoulders and then he pressed him against the wall, their legs still tangled, Glenn’s nose buried in Daryl’s neck. And, ironically, it was only once he was being smothered by the other man that he felt like he could breathe again.

It took a few seconds for his arms to come up to wrap around Daryl in return, but once they did, Daryl’s grip tightened in response, quietly repeating “It’s alright,” like a mantra.

The moment passed, of course. The scraping and moaning of walkers could no longer be found and Glenn’s breath could. While he still couldn’t bring himself to let go, he loosened his grip, only then realizing his nails were probably going to leave indent marks in Daryl’s arms.

Weirdly enough, Daryl didn’t seem to mind.

"Thank you," Glenn said, "My backpack’s still out there, we should probably…"

"Yeah," Daryl agreed softly. Glenn could feel the syllable rumbling along the column of Daryl’s throat, and he foolishly followed it with his lips.

"Fuck, kid," Daryl hissed, "Not right now."

Glenn froze, pulling back. The humiliation mixed with hope as he said, “Right now? But later?”

"If you’re still down once the adrenaline wears off," Daryl shrugged, "Sure, why not? But for right now, we should probably invest that in getting our shit back and getting to the others."

"I…" Glenn shuddered, "Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry."

Daryl gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze before stepping back, towards the door, “Hey,” he said sternly with his hand on the knob, “Don’t be. It’s fine. More than fine. Timing’s just off.”

"Isn’t it always?" Glenn sighed.

Daryl smiled and opened the door.


End file.
